[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
ran himself down on the about-faces. "We're ambushed, comrades! Fire in the
fog! Land on the stern!"
"Oh, tin cups and canyons!" rasped Nick Chopper, losing his temper at last.
"If this keeps up, how are we ever to get down? Hammer and tong it!
Something's always getting in the way. WILL you stop that silly marching?"
he yelled, snatching at the Soldier's sleeve as he raced by.
"HALT!" quavered Wantowin. Instantly obeying his own command, he stood
trembling beside the navigator's table as Nick peered desperately down
through the fog.
CHAPTER 6
STRUT OF THE STRAT
"What is it, Hippenscop?" Strutoovious the Seventh looked up impatiently as
his first and fastest messenger came to a panting halt under the Imperial
Canopy. Instead of answering, Hippenscop, his chest heaving and his eyes
bulging, made a wordless gesture over his shoulder. Then, catching his foot
in the royal bootscraper, he fell violently up the steps of the dais. This
was not unusual, for anyone who falls in Stratovania falls up instead of
down. Rather relieved to find himself before the throne at last, Hippenscop
scrambled to his feet. Sucking in his breath, he announced hoarsely:
"I beg to report a strange and sonorbious monster falling through the fog
over Half Moon Lake."
"Are you sure it is not a Zoomer?" Throwing down the morning star which he
had been reading, Strutoovious stared coldly at the messenger.
"Ho, no! Ho, NO!" Hippenscop shook his head positively. "It has wings and a
tail, your Stratjesty. Wings, a tail, and seven eyes! But HARK!" The
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menacing whirr and sputter following the messenger's speech made even the
Ruler of all the Stratovanians leap off his throne. Striding rapidly after
the terrified servitor, Strut, followed by half the inhabitants of his
irradiant Tip-toposphere, reached the shores of Half Moon Lake.
"Skydragon!" he announced after a brief glance at the gleaming shape
drifting down through the fog. "Quick, Hippen! Summon the Royal Blowmen!
Back, stand back, you witless woffs! Do you wish to be crushed and eaten?
Yon monster will alight on the North shore any moonite now!" At Strut's
loud warning, half of his subjects took to their heels, while the rest
scurried round to the South side of the lake, every head turned up toward
the mysterious dragon.
Only of course it was not a dragon. It was the silver-bodied Oztober, inside
of which the agitation was almost as great as the alarm of the Airlanders
below.
"How long have we? How long'll it be before we land?" gulped Jellia.
Remembering the Wizard's instructions, she jerked out the box of air
helmets and next made a dive under the navigator's table. "Here, take one
C4 twoC4 threeC4 Oh, how many shall we take?" groaned the little Oz Maid,
holding up the bottle of altitude pills. "FF20`One, after each mile up,'
but how many miles have we come?"
"One hundred and one thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven feet!" mumbled
the Soldier with Green Whiskers, reading the figures from a shining metal
hypsometer clamped to the navigator's table. "All we have to do is figure
how many feet in a mile."
"Fifty-two hundred and some," puffed Nick, working away desperately at his
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wheel and buttons to bring the Oztober down without crashing. "Oh, take
twenty!" he directed sharply as Jellia and the Soldier stood regarding him
with open mouths. It was no time, as Jellia later told Ozma, to be doing
long division. With trembling fingers she counted out twenty pills for the
Soldier with Green Whiskers. Then, popping twenty into her own mouth and
crunching them desperately between her teeth, she handed the bottle to Nick
Chopper.
"No, No! None for me!" The Tin Woodman waved the bottle impatiently aside.
"High altitude won't injure my metal, but keep this oil can handy, Jellia,
and whatever happens, don't let me rust!" Choking on the pills, which were
dry and rather bitter, Jellia nodded earnestly. Tucking the oil can into
the little bag that hung from her wrist, she began nervously dragging on
her air helmet. Wantowin Battles already had adjusted his and swallowed his
pills. Now, peering out one of the round windows, he trembled so violently
all his weapons rattled and clanked to the dismal tune of his fright.
"Th-thousands of them!" quavered the Soldier. "What kind of place is this,
anyway? It's so bright it hurts my eyes. Oh, I just know there'll be
fighting! Look, I'd far better stay in the cabin, as someone must guard the
plane!"
"But not YOU!" Nick Chopper spoke with great firmness. Then, spinning the
wheel rapidly and gauging to a nicety the distance between the ship and the
sparkling airosphere, he touched the "down" and "stop" buttons
simultaneously. Coating down the last little hill of wind, the Oztober came
to a gentle and complete stop on the shore of a rainbow-hued body of water.
"Now, now! Take your time," cautioned the Tin Woodman as Jellia started
impulsively toward the door. Pulling off one of the cushion covers, Nick
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
began polishing himself vigorously. As the discoverer of this new and
astonishing airland, he wished to make a good impression. From what he had
seen, it was a country well worth claiming for Ozma of Oz. "Here, let me go
first," he said, tossing aside the cushion cover. "Keep close to me, Jellia [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
ran himself down on the about-faces. "We're ambushed, comrades! Fire in the
fog! Land on the stern!"
"Oh, tin cups and canyons!" rasped Nick Chopper, losing his temper at last.
"If this keeps up, how are we ever to get down? Hammer and tong it!
Something's always getting in the way. WILL you stop that silly marching?"
he yelled, snatching at the Soldier's sleeve as he raced by.
"HALT!" quavered Wantowin. Instantly obeying his own command, he stood
trembling beside the navigator's table as Nick peered desperately down
through the fog.
CHAPTER 6
STRUT OF THE STRAT
"What is it, Hippenscop?" Strutoovious the Seventh looked up impatiently as
his first and fastest messenger came to a panting halt under the Imperial
Canopy. Instead of answering, Hippenscop, his chest heaving and his eyes
bulging, made a wordless gesture over his shoulder. Then, catching his foot
in the royal bootscraper, he fell violently up the steps of the dais. This
was not unusual, for anyone who falls in Stratovania falls up instead of
down. Rather relieved to find himself before the throne at last, Hippenscop
scrambled to his feet. Sucking in his breath, he announced hoarsely:
"I beg to report a strange and sonorbious monster falling through the fog
over Half Moon Lake."
"Are you sure it is not a Zoomer?" Throwing down the morning star which he
had been reading, Strutoovious stared coldly at the messenger.
"Ho, no! Ho, NO!" Hippenscop shook his head positively. "It has wings and a
tail, your Stratjesty. Wings, a tail, and seven eyes! But HARK!" The
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
menacing whirr and sputter following the messenger's speech made even the
Ruler of all the Stratovanians leap off his throne. Striding rapidly after
the terrified servitor, Strut, followed by half the inhabitants of his
irradiant Tip-toposphere, reached the shores of Half Moon Lake.
"Skydragon!" he announced after a brief glance at the gleaming shape
drifting down through the fog. "Quick, Hippen! Summon the Royal Blowmen!
Back, stand back, you witless woffs! Do you wish to be crushed and eaten?
Yon monster will alight on the North shore any moonite now!" At Strut's
loud warning, half of his subjects took to their heels, while the rest
scurried round to the South side of the lake, every head turned up toward
the mysterious dragon.
Only of course it was not a dragon. It was the silver-bodied Oztober, inside
of which the agitation was almost as great as the alarm of the Airlanders
below.
"How long have we? How long'll it be before we land?" gulped Jellia.
Remembering the Wizard's instructions, she jerked out the box of air
helmets and next made a dive under the navigator's table. "Here, take one
C4 twoC4 threeC4 Oh, how many shall we take?" groaned the little Oz Maid,
holding up the bottle of altitude pills. "FF20`One, after each mile up,'
but how many miles have we come?"
"One hundred and one thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven feet!" mumbled
the Soldier with Green Whiskers, reading the figures from a shining metal
hypsometer clamped to the navigator's table. "All we have to do is figure
how many feet in a mile."
"Fifty-two hundred and some," puffed Nick, working away desperately at his
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
wheel and buttons to bring the Oztober down without crashing. "Oh, take
twenty!" he directed sharply as Jellia and the Soldier stood regarding him
with open mouths. It was no time, as Jellia later told Ozma, to be doing
long division. With trembling fingers she counted out twenty pills for the
Soldier with Green Whiskers. Then, popping twenty into her own mouth and
crunching them desperately between her teeth, she handed the bottle to Nick
Chopper.
"No, No! None for me!" The Tin Woodman waved the bottle impatiently aside.
"High altitude won't injure my metal, but keep this oil can handy, Jellia,
and whatever happens, don't let me rust!" Choking on the pills, which were
dry and rather bitter, Jellia nodded earnestly. Tucking the oil can into
the little bag that hung from her wrist, she began nervously dragging on
her air helmet. Wantowin Battles already had adjusted his and swallowed his
pills. Now, peering out one of the round windows, he trembled so violently
all his weapons rattled and clanked to the dismal tune of his fright.
"Th-thousands of them!" quavered the Soldier. "What kind of place is this,
anyway? It's so bright it hurts my eyes. Oh, I just know there'll be
fighting! Look, I'd far better stay in the cabin, as someone must guard the
plane!"
"But not YOU!" Nick Chopper spoke with great firmness. Then, spinning the
wheel rapidly and gauging to a nicety the distance between the ship and the
sparkling airosphere, he touched the "down" and "stop" buttons
simultaneously. Coating down the last little hill of wind, the Oztober came
to a gentle and complete stop on the shore of a rainbow-hued body of water.
"Now, now! Take your time," cautioned the Tin Woodman as Jellia started
impulsively toward the door. Pulling off one of the cushion covers, Nick
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
began polishing himself vigorously. As the discoverer of this new and
astonishing airland, he wished to make a good impression. From what he had
seen, it was a country well worth claiming for Ozma of Oz. "Here, let me go
first," he said, tossing aside the cushion cover. "Keep close to me, Jellia [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]